


Mirrors Keep Our Reflections

by AetherAria



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (at least twice over actually), Angst, Damien's family, Family Dynamics, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Parent(s), Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Siblings, also i have given the boy a sibling, and... whooops.... uh, as usual i do not know how to tag, i am mildly unpacking damien's father, whom i love now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherAria/pseuds/AetherAria
Summary: If there had been a third child, he would have been named Ferdinand.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	Mirrors Keep Our Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops. Context: there's a patreon bonus guide to the second citadel thing that talks about names and naming in the 'verse, and apparently it is _very_ common for children to pick a new name for themselves. Combine this with certain headcanons I have about Damien's family and you get.... a mess.
> 
> Title from Domino by Squalloscope.

It is a cruel anniversary for all three of them. Aaron is unsure what their father thinks Damien will accomplish in his studies today, but neither of them argue when they are each assigned their tasks before their father locks himself away again with his holy texts.

Aaron is unsure as well, if their father is _mourning_ , in this way, or if there is some other answer he seeks in the words of the Saints. It doesn't particularly matter, he decides, if it means that he and Damien will be left to mourn on their own, in peace.

When Damien's shoulders sag over his own reading, when he rubs at his eyes, Aaron steps up beside him, reaches forward, and closes his book.

"Aaron-"

"Come down by the pond with me."

"But father said-"

"A few minutes, Damien. Clear your head, give your poor scholarly eyes a rest, inhale some air that isn't half composed of _dust_."

His brother glances back down to the closed book again, guilty and reluctant, and then he scoots his stool back. "… Alright. Only for a little while."

The walk is short, and though the day is oppressively hot, the shade and the breeze are cool enough to guard them from the worst of it by the water's edge. Damien settles on the moss with a sigh, and he closes his eyes for a long moment as Aaron stares out over the glassy surface of the pond, watching the lines rippling out behind the family of geese on the far side.

"Do you… remember much about her?" Damien asks, after what seems like quite some time. His voice is very quiet, and when Aaron blinks and glances towards him, Damien still has his eyes closed, though his expression is tight and anxious.

After a long moment, Aaron sinks to sit beside his brother. "… less than I once did," he admits, and Damien opens his eyes so that he may watch Aaron's face instead. "Less than I wish I did. Memory is an unreliable creature. If you look away from it for too long, it will transform, or decay. I remember… I remember that she had clever eyes, a rare smile but easy humor… I do remember that she enjoyed mornings just the same as you, Damien."

Damien's smile is noticeably watery, but it is genuine. "Did she shove you from bed as I do?"

"When I needed a good shoving," Aaron grins, "yes."

"I wish-"

Damien's words come too fast. Too abrupt, and they cut off into the silence of the thrumming hot day just as quickly.

"I know," Aaron says, when the silence has drawn long. "I wish too. I miss her, and… and I miss the man that father was, when she was still here."

"Was he… was he-"

"He was still himself," Aaron says gently. "But- happier. Less unyielding."

"I think… I cannot help but think, how it could have been, if-" he inhales sharply, his brow furrowing. "The four of us, together. Or- the five, I expect."

"Five- ah." Aaron presses his lips together for a moment. "Right."

Aaron, and Damien, and-

Their parents would not have named them as they did, of course, if they were not anticipating a third with which to complete their reverent set.

"Another brother," Damien says, both sad and wondering. "We could have had another… another piece to our family. Some brave little boy we never had the chance to know-"

"You cannot know what another child would have been like, Damien. Simply because father _would_ have named him Ferdinand does not mean anything about who he would have been. Or she, for that matter. A name such as that…"

"A name such as ours?" Damien asks, one eyebrow raised and his lips pursed into a pout.

Aaron eyes his brother in return, considering, and then he nods. "A name such as ours. The more I think on it, the more I know that it is a wretched thing to do. If we had another brother, if they named him as they clearly planned- likely he would toss the name on the next fire as soon as he was old enough to choose one for himself. Saints know how often I've been tempted to do the _same_."

"You- you have?" Damien asks, obviously incredulous, his eyes wide, and Aaron attempts to keep his expression only wry.

"It's only... it's quite a lot for any child to live up to," he says. "You understand that, don't you?"

"I... I suppose so... but- but _you_ do live up to your namesake! You are steadfast, sturdy-"

"Damien-"

"Resolute! And if you can live up to _your_ name, certainly if I work hard enough, study long enough-"

"You shouldn't _have_ to, Damien. Neither should I. No child should. If we had another in our family, it would be kinder to leave them free of such a weight."

Damien frowns, a delicate web of incomprehension. " _Are_ you... are you going to change yours, then?"

Aaron looks aside, sighs. "I haven't decided. It's... it _is_ a heavy weight, but... it means so much to him."

And their father's good humor is the unsteady framework upon which their home is built.

"... what... what would you even change it _to_ , if you did?"

"I could change it to Damien, simply to annoy you," Aaron says with his wide, easy grin.

" _Aaron_. I am being _serious_."

Aaron laughs. "I could simply change it to Ferdinand myself, and then _you_ could take a turn as the elder brother."

Damien huffs. "That," he says stiffly, "is _not_ how that works. And besides- if you were _Ferdinand_ , that certainly would not solve your problem. Your very first point was that bravery would be an equally heavy burden."

"That is true," Aaron says with a sigh. "So. Not another Saint name, then."

"Obviously not," Damien agrees. "That would limit you _quite_ severely." He pauses, his uncertainty so poorly concealed that Aaron can't help but smile again. "Did... _clearly_ you have put some thought into this... did you have any potential names in mind? Any that were not in jest?"

"Any..." Aaron echoes. "I suppose that is just the issue," he says slowly. "If I were not Aaron, I could be _anyone_."

"But were there any anyones in _particular_ ," Damien insists. "Come now, I don't think you would have brought it up had you nothing already in mind!"

"Perhaps I had some trouble, summoning potential names to my own mind. Perhaps I was far more curious to hear your suggestions," he says, tilting his head with a grin. "You are much quicker with this sort of game than I, after all."

"Oh!" Damien clasps his hands together, grinning, and then he schools his expression, his brow furrowing as he considers this task for a long moment. "You could be... hm, perhaps Lucan? No- Rience! Or perhaps Owain, or Claudas, or Balan-"

"Evaine is rather elegant," Aaron murmurs, and his face is very still as he watches the equally still water.

Damien pauses. "Wh-what was that?"

Aaron says nothing for a long moment, and then he stands, his easy smile spread across his face again. "It's past time we returned you to your studies, I think."

"But-"

"I will thank you for indulging me, and beg your pardon for distracting you for quite so long," he says. "But we should... we should return to where we belong, Damien."

Damien stares up at him, still unsure for a strange, stretched-out moment, and then he reaches a hand out so Aaron may help pull him back to his feet.

They do not speak, on the walk back to their home. They do not speak of names ever again.

They do not see another cruel anniversary together.

If there had been a third child, he would have been named Ferdinand. Unlike his namesake, Damien who will be Pious has only one brother, and his name was only ever Aaron.

After Aaron dies, Damien's father mourns this newest cruelty by packing up what remains of their lives and taking young Damien to the realm where death looms the closest. He takes them to the Western Wastes, the woods of death themselves, and there Damien's father proselytizes. The names of the Saints on his tongue, surrounded by death and nonbelievers. Their names, again and again, and echoed in and echoing his family, in his son who never was, in his son who no longer is, in his son who is not _enough_.

When Damien is old enough to choose his own appellation, he thinks of Aaron.

He thought of Aaron in the water, as well. He thinks of Aaron often, though he is discovering to his sorrow that Aaron had been right, about memory, and transformation, and decay. He remembers that easy grin, still, and sturdy embrace, but he has forgotten the precise pattern of his freckles. He has forgotten the name that he whispered like a secret beside the water. He has forgotten moments small, and large, and they have left him so easily that he will not even recognize their lack.

Damien could choose another name, but once beneath the water his namesake reached within him, and helped him breathe.

Damien could choose another name, but once a boy named Aaron had a brother named Damien, and Damien does not wish to be anyone else.


End file.
